


The Shell of a Monster

by MCUsic_to_my_ears



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anxiety, First Impressions, First Meetings, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Panic, Reflection, The Avengers (2012) Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 18:57:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12238752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MCUsic_to_my_ears/pseuds/MCUsic_to_my_ears
Summary: Bruce Banner as he waits to meet Steve and Natasha on the Helicarrier.





	The Shell of a Monster

**Author's Note:**

> This was a descriptive essay I wrote for school. I'm a nerd. Be warned.

The map of his features tells of a rich history. On the rough asphalt of the Helicarrier’s sturdy launch pads stands a man who has learned to endure: Dr. Bruce Banner. A blanket of brown, fluffy hair tops him off. A few strands of grey stick out, evidencing his age. The harsh wind has blown his curly locks so deeply that they now resemble that of a trichotillomaniac after a long day. It testifies to how many seconds, minutes, hours, he’s waited on the deck for his companions. The skin around his tired, honeyed brown eyes pulls tight, dark lines encircling them, revealing long nights and eventful days. They search those approaching for some indication of how this first meeting will be. His skin is weathered and tan from hard, long days in the sun while he was racing through the shadowed forests and earthy bodies of water. He rubs his strong jawline as if in thought. His five o’clock shadow pulls down to the far reaches of his neck, loosely enclosed by a rumpled, deep purple shirt that still gives off the final wisps of a crisp, factory-new smell. The top two buttons of his dress shirt are left open, revealing the first tufts of unruly chest hair. 

Enveloping his midsection is the final layer of a corduroy sports coat, protecting him from the biting winds and the sporadic splashes of the icy waters that the Helicarrier bobbed in. The coat is fraying along a few seams, but is clearly well cared for, the dirt brown tones only barely beginning to fade. It’s clean, yet still carries the aroma of the earth and oddly enough, bleach and the sour lemon of hospital cleaners. Scratchy material pulls at his muscled arms, the final showings of laborious days and nights. It doesn’t look comfortable, but then again,  _ he _ doesn’t look comfortable facing the grating winds that carry the crunchy salt smells and roaring waves of the ocean. The cool air mingles on his lips, leaving the salty residue before exhaling back into the atmosphere. He checks his simple, leather watch, a small concession of anxiety. The glass is scratched and smudges are rampant, but the soothing ticks sound as each second leaps forward. A comforting constant. Sitting between his calloused, dextrous hands that make fast work to smooth out his pants are the soft trousers which seem to match his coat perfectly, despite the contrast in material. His pants flow down to a pair of worn dress shoes, brown leather and laceless. He still carries the scents of the earth with the odd tinge of the pungent, urban pollution of Calcutta, even as the battering winds of the Helicarrier snatch them away. 

But beneath all that he puts before them are hidden small, unseen blemishes, scattered about his skin. Thin white scars from dark days and even darker nights are tucked away beneath his simple clothing, telling stories of lab accidents, abuse, self-harm. Contained within those marks is a stronger memory, constantly pressing, churning. The Other Guy, the worldbreaker, the monster within. The Hulk. A man must maintain permanent control to remain the border between the mass destruction he created long ago. As the final steps between him and his future teammates are crossed, the doctor pulls forwards a brave mask and pretends to be the jailor they need. Rewriting his story, just for a little while. 


End file.
